THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


CHARLES   FRAXCIS  PRESS 
NEW   YORK 


The  Snow 
Bride 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BY 

DANIEL  HUGH  VERDER,  M.  A. 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
DANIEL  HUGH  VERDER 


The  thanks  of  the  Author  are  due  to  the  fol 
lowing  magazines  and  publications  in  which  orig 
inally  appeared  some  of  the  poems  in  this  book: 
The  Connecticut  Magazine,  Pearson's  Magazine, 
The  Iroquois  Magazine,  Trinity  Tablet  and 
Trinity  Ivy. 


623962 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Prelude       ......          9 

The  Snow  Bride    .          .          .          .          .11 

Orithyia      .  .  .  .  .  .17 

Class  Day  Prologue       ....        23 

Lyrics          ......        29 

Quatrains    ......        83 

Sonnets        ......        97 

Triolets      .  .  .  .  .  .123 

Religious  Poems  .  .  .          .  .131 


TO   MY   MOTHER 


PRELUDE 

Lo,  if  I  call  you,  my  own  songs,  my  flesh, 

And  if  I  call  you,  my  own  songs,  my  blood, 
'Tis  well,  for  ere  I  formed  you  I  was  fresh, 

But  now  I  feel  as  though  from  me  some  good 
Has  gone  and  made  you  not  mere  words  in  ink, 

But  spirit-like  partaking  of  my  being. 
So  all  who  read  you,  gentle  songs,  will  drink 

My  blood  and  eat  my  flesh  without  them  seeing. 


THE   SNOW   BRIDE 


O  DEATHLESS  Love !  would  that  the  task  were 
mine 

To  wreathe  for  thee  a  zone  of  myrtle  pale, 
To  burn  rich  incense  'fore  thy  votive  shrine 

In  hallowed  grotto  or  sequester'd  dale, 
Thrice  brighter  would  thy  tripods  ever  burn, 

Thrice  whiter  would  thy  misty  clouds  arise, 
And  though  I  weary  grew  I  could  but  learn 

That  love  is  echoed  in  heart-rending  sighs. 
For  love  would  die  if  sorrow  never  came 
To  kindly  breathe  upon  its  smouldering  flame. 

Oh !  I,  who  utter  but  a  sad  complaint, 

Like  some  lone  nightingale  at  eventide; 
Whose  doleful  heart  for  very  love  doth  faint, 

And  seeks  a  leafy  tree  where  it  may  hide; 
I,  too,  of  yore  have  knelt  before  thee  dumb; 

Upon  my  lips  fair  vows  have  burned  to  thee. 
My  heart,  grown  sick  with  longings,  now  is  numb ; 

Each  hour  becomes  a  long  eternity. 
Oh,  bathe  me  with  thy  restful  love  to-day; 
Or,  crown  me  with  thy  rosy  flower,  I  pray! 


Come,  halo  me  with  thy  soft  arms,  so  white; 

Oh,  prithee,  shroud  me  with  thy  velvet  form; 
But  not  too  late,  for  silently  one  night, 

The  Snow-Bride,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Storm, 
And  heralded  by  nymphs  from  elf-land,  fleet, 

Came  smiling  down  the  stairs  in  silver  sheen, — 
Drinking  the  nectar  of  her  flowers  sweet, 

Which  she  had  garlanded  with  ferns  of  green. 
"Ring!   ring,  O  bells!"  cried  nymphs  in  wild 

delight, 

'  The  Snow-Bride  pure  will  wed  the  Earth  to 
night. 

"  See !  see  her  lover  with  his  hoary  hair, 

And  visage  ever  constant  as  a  dial, 
Yet  wrinkled  by  his  yearning  and  his  care; 

For  since  he  first  beheld  his  Love's  sweet 

smile, 
And  heard  her  words  that  fall  like  Summer  rain 

Upon  the  bosom  of  a  listless  lake, 
His  fleecy-woven  life  by  mothy  pain 

Has  fretted  been.     Awake !  O  mirth,  awake ! 
And  shed  a  multitude  of  sunny  beams 
Into  his  heart — the  haunt  of  love-tuned  dreams." 


A  fainting  love-song  in  her  veil  has  wrought, 

And  it  was  fringed  with  violets  of  blue. 
Oh,  to  her  softly-tinted  brow  it  brought 

That  loveliness  which  flowers  gain  from  dew. 
Her  mother,  Moon,  did  kiss  her  with  a  tear, 

When,  o'er  her  silken  tresses  gle.aming  bright, 
She  gently  draped  the  bridal-veil;  while  near 

Her  lingered  flower-girls  in  pink  and  white, 
As  humming-birds  a  blushing  rose  revere, 
For  it  is  sweeter  far  than  tulip,  hale, 
Or  blue  verbena,  never  growing  pale. 

Sweet  bridal-strains  dissolved  themselves  in  air, 

And  all  was  hushed  as  in  a  room  where  Death, 
With  silent  tread,  doth  enter, — claiming  there 

That  no  one  speak  save  with  a  muffled  breath. 
O  bridal-strains ! — sweet,  silver-flowing  strains ! 

The  Earth's  ecstatic  soul  leaped  up  to  hear 
Thy  liquid  songs,   while  through  his  dark-hued 
veins 

His  blood  grew  cold,  as  though  beside  the  bier 
Of  some  young  friend  he  motionless  did  stand, 
And  in  deep  grief  did  hold  an  icy  hand. 


The  bridal-veil  was  lifted  from  her  face. 

O  sprite  of  love,  how  weak  is  life's  thin  thread! 
Its  pulsing  fibres  how  we  each  embrace; 

But  how  death's  shadow  fills  us  with  its  dread ! 
Her  lips  then  crowned  his  for  a  moment  brief. 

He  swooned,  and  lifeless  fell  where,  tier  on  tier, 
The  heliotrope  was  weeping  in  its  grief — 

The  bridal-strains  became  a  death-dirge  drear! 
While  o'er  his  form  her  bridal-veil — his  pall — 
Shrouded  the  lover  and  his  bride  from  all. 

O  deathless  Love!  come  halo  me  to-night; 
Come,  speak  one  word  in  accents  quick  or 

slow. 

Oh,  prithee,  twine  thine  arms,  so  lithe  and  white, 

About  my  neck.    Oh,  say,  dost  not  thou  know 

How  sobs  the  Snow-Bride  o'er  her  lover,  dead, 

Till,  in  her  wild  despair,  she  swoons  to  rest? 

O  deathless  Love !  crown  with  thy  flower  my 

head, 

And  lull  me  to  a  calm  upon  thy  breast 
Ere  thou  wilt  hear  these  words  from  black-robed 

Fate: 
"  Thy  love  was  wanted,  but  it  came  too  late." 


16 


ORITHYIA 

A  GREEK  LEGEND 


HIGH  stood  the  caverns  on  Mount  Haemus  bold, 

Within  them  lurked  a  man  forlorn  and  sad — 
King  Boreas,  the  god  of  Northeast  wind. 

Full  heavily  with  garments  was  he  clad, 
As  on  his  throne  high-pedestaled  he  sat 

And  pondered  in  his  heart  a  secret  plan : 
"  I  am  alone  within  this  world,"  he  sighed, 

"Right  weighty  is  to  me  this  grievous  ban, 
No  love  has  shared  with  me  my  kingly  couch, 

No  love  has  twined  her  arms  about  my  form 
Save  in  a  dream,  but  dreams!  ah,  me!  alas! 

Are  too  unreal  to  comfort  my  life's  storm. 
The  bridal  songs  I  hear  in  happy  Thrace 

As  upwards  soar  they  in  the  evening  air; 
I  watch  from  this  my  home  the  bridal-dance, 

And  would  myself  to  bridal-couch  repair, 
Yet  I  remain  unmated  and  unloved, 

For  all  my  aims  at  love  are  baffled  soon. 
Betimes  I  fear  lest  'tis  the  Fates'  decree 

That  I  shall  live  forever  out  of  tune; 
But  yesterday  when  I  was  wandering 

About  the  broad-spread  plains  of  Athens  old, 
Where  snowy  temples  bask  beneath  the  sun, 

And  King  Erechtheus  sways  his  sceptre  gold, 
I  spied  the  maiden  Orithyia. 

I  know  no  poet  who  could  paint  her  eyes, 


For  they  are  bluer  than  the  sapphire  deep, 

And  sunnier  than  all  the  Grecian  skies. 
Her  slender  form  is  like  the  willow  young 

Which  overhangs  a  dark,  unhampered  pool. 
Her  features  are  a  study  for  my  eyes, 

For  they  are  chiseled  with  a  perfect  tool. 
Half-hidden  by  her  veil-like  vesture  pale, 

As  sometimes  is  the  moon  with  feathery  mist, 
Her  bosom  with  its  apple-blossom  tint 

Lies  in  its  silken  sheen  by  beauty  kissed. 
But  when  I  sought  my  Orithyia 

To  come  and  cheer  this  distant  mountain  cave, 
To  serve  my  bed  and  bear  me  children  strong, 

That  might  become  good  warriors  and  brave, 
With  gentle  mien  spake  she  these  crystal  words — 

'  Let  but  one  stream  spread  over  me  its  wave, 

And  let  that  stream  be  pure  Illissus  clear 

In  which  I  bathe  with  other  maidens  dear. 

Its  golden  sand  gives  to  my  naked  feet 

A  pleasure  that  is  infinitely  sweet. 

I  love  my  Athens  with  its  flowery  dells, 

Its  well-built  walls  and  towering  citadels. 

Nay,    King,    I   will   not   leave   my   home    for 
Thrace, 

Hie  now  away,  thy  airy  flight  retrace.'  " 


20 


When  to  himself,  for  no  one  else  was  nigh, 

King  Boreas  these  words  had  uttered  low 
As  fingered  he  his  flowing,  shaggy  beard, 

His  fierce  rage  in  his  heart  did  wilder  grow, 
And  upward  raised  he  then  his  mighty  form, 

And  slowly  paced  he  through  his  cavern's  gloom 
As  thunder  sounds  ere  comes  the  break  of  storm. 

Then  clinching  furious  his  hairy  hand, 
He  cried,  "Why  hast  Zeus  given  me  this  power 

Of  mighty  force  so  irresistible? 
Why  did  I  hesitate  to  cull  the  flower — 

The  lovely  flower  Orithyia  ? 
I  ever  gain  my  ends  by  mortal  force, 

I  will  not  hesitate  to  grasp  my  Love, 
And  I  will  risk  the  pangs  of  deep  remorse." 

He  spake  no  more,  but  bound  upon  his  feet 

His  winged  oak-wood  sandals,  light  and  fleet, 
Down,  down  from  high  Mt.  Haemus  did  he  wing, 

And  men  in  Thrace  did  shudder  with  the  cold. 
Down,  down  to  Athens  did  he  hastening  come 

In  silence  as  a  knave  or  robber  bold. 
Without  a  care,  sweet  Orithyia 

Was  straying  calmly  'long  the  flowery  field, 
Plucking  the  daisies  which  she  loved  so  well, 

And  now  and  then  some  favorite  rose  concealed 


21 


Within  her  vesture  by  her  bosom  warm. 

A  low  tune  was  she  humming  as  she  strayed, 
As  listless  as  the  song  of  honey-bee 

That  pauses  often  in  the  sunny  glade 
Some  clovers  to  caress.     A  moment  past 

And  Boreas  had  seized  his  gladsome  prize, 
And  girded  firm  his  arm  about  her  form. 

A  startling  cry !     A  glance  into  his  eyes, 
Then  fell  the  maiden  Orithyia 

Swooning  upon  his  breast  in  deathly  fear, 
Up  mounted  then  the  God  of  Northeast  wind, 

And  closer  to  himself  his  pale  nymph  dear 
He  drew.     Then  kisses  came  in  endless  glee; 

His  love  awoke  to  drink  of  ecstacy. 


22 


CLASS-DAY  PROLOGUE 


DEAR  friends,  our  halcyon  days  are  hastening  fast, 

The  song  of  college  life  is  nearly  o'er; 
So  pause  we  now  a  while  and  glances  cast 

On  fondest  pleasures  we  can  know  no  more. 
Still  on  our  cheeks  the  blush  of  Hebe  glows, 

And  ere  it  fades  we  would  our  joys  rehearse, 
But  as  fresh  memory's  stream  its  banks  o'erflows, 

We  have  not  time  to  crown  each  joy  in  verse. 
Though  in  our  hearts  we'll  treasure  all  aright, 
For  they  will  ease  our  pains  by  day  and  night. 

How  rare  are  friendships  in  this  age  of  ours, 

Real  friendships  that  will  stand  when  tried  by 

time; 
Yet  here  in  college  youths,  like  budding  flowers, 

Become  close  friends  and  live  in  sunny  clime. 
Away  with  theories  how  to  love  a  friend, 

I  would  no  theories  in  your  hearts  instill. 
Passion  and  love  may  with  each  other  blend, 

Or  else  a  calmer  love  two  souls  may  fill. 
For  since  no  two  men  look  nor  act  the  same, 
Why  think  that  love  has  but  a  single  flame? 


Who  could  or  would  forget  his  college  hours? 

The  long  and  happy  confidential  talks, 
The  gatherings  'fore  chapel  near  the  towers, 

The  rides  through  sunny  country,  and  the  walks 
In  mellow  Autumn,  when  trees  are  all  aglow 

With  gorgeous  colors  and  tints  of  faintest  hue. 
In  Spring  we  watch  our  elm  trees  bud  and  grow, 

While   'bout   the   bishop,   night-fires   we   start 

anew. 

Now  petty  college  troubles  fade  from  sight, 
But  college  joys  remain  forever  bright. 

I  would  not  have  you  think  that  college  days 

Are  free  from  weary  care  and  drudging  toil. 
The  idle  fellow  has  no  share  in  praise, 

He  cannot  reap  who  has  not  ploughed  the  soil. 
None  knows  the  blessings  that  are  hid  in  sleep 

Save  he  who's  labored  hard  by  day  and  night. 
He  only  finds  repose  a  comfort  deep, 

Whose  heart  commends  him  thus  to  sure  de 
light; 

"  Go,  rest  awhile,  thy  task  has  been  well  done, 
Thy  glory's  as  the  brightness  of  the  sun." 


26 


To-day  our  Alma  Mater's  voice  profound 

Through   clouds   and  mist  unfathomable  and 

deep, 
Speaks  to  our  souls  in  accents  full  and  round, 

"  Go,  now,  my  faithful  sons,  and  laurels  reap; 
Do  what  ye  love,  for  that  ye  will  do  best. 

Brighten  the  world  and  make  it  beautiful. 
To  noble  ends  be  all  your  toil  addressed, 

Then  never  will  your  work  seem  hard  or  dull. 
Each  man  is  born  with  but  a  single  goal, 
Let  courage  be  the  watchword  of  his  soul." 

So  listen  now  awhile,  friends,  one  and  all, 

And  gather  what  you  may  of  life  at  college, 
Our  pride  when  sophomores,  our  junior  ball, 

When    freshmen    young    our    longings    after 

knowledge ; 
Our  senior  dignity,  which  all  must  see, 

Our  hopes  and  honest  love  for  this  our  home — 
Our  common  home,  our  dear  old  Trinity — 

Which  stands  so  worthily  Vieath  heaven's  dome, 
A  cherisher  of  all  that's  good  and  true, 
And  where  the  beautiful  is  honored,  too. 


27 


LYRICS 


POESIE 

O  Poesie,  O  Poesie, 

Could  I  but  ever  dwell  with  thee, 

No  greater  blessing  would  I  know, 

No  richer  one  could  God  bestow. 

Oh,  what  care  we  for  sleet  or  storm, 

Though  chill  wind  blow  we  still  are  warm, 

And  pillowed  on  my  wing-like  arm 

I'll  keep  thee  from  intrusive  harm. 

This,  this  alone  shall  be  my  goal — 
To  sip  the  sunshine  of  thy  soul, 
And  if  another  would  thee  wrong 
I'll  be  the  gallant  knight  of  song, 
And  should  I  win  upon  the  sward, 
Let  but  thy  smile  be  my  reward. 
Gladly  with  thee  my  life  I'll  spend, 
O  Poesie,  my  constant  friend. 


Soul-filled  eyes  and  rose-wreathed  hair, 
Full-curved  lips  that  know  no  care, 
And  a  neck  so  round  and  white, 
Circled  'bout  with  large  pearls  bright. 
Thou  dost  not  open  thy  gate 
To  the  man  who  has  most  gold, 
But  to  him  whose  heart  elate 
Worships  Beauty  manifold. 
Richest  perfumes  I  have  fed  on, 
Softest  grass  I've  made  my  bed  on; 
I  have  drunk  Love's  strongest  potion 
And  have  sailed  on  Freedom's  ocean. 
I  have  been  both  king  and  vassal 
In  some  mediaeval  castle. 
In  exchange  for  highest  health, 
I  have  gained  a  poet's  wealth. 
Yet  the  throbs  my  soul  has  felt, 
And  how  often  have  I  spelt 
Disappointment,  Disappointment ! 
Yet  thou  hast  bestowed  cool  ointment, 
And  I  live  in  fancy's  clime, 
Feeding  on  heart-easing  rhyme, 
Finding  there  fresh  joys  that  fade  not, 
Hearing  songs  that  yet  are  played  not. 


O  Poesie,  O  Poesie, 

Could  I  but  ever  dwell  with  thee, 

No  greater  blessing  would  I  know, 

No  richer  one  could  God  bestow. 

Oh,  what  care  we  for  sleet  or  storm, 

Though  chill  wind  blow  we  still  are  warm, 

And  pillowed  on  my  wing-like  arm 

I'll  keep  thee  from  intrusive  harm, 

This,  this  alone  shall  be  my  goal — 

To  sip  the  sunshine  of  thy  soul. 


A  CERTAIN  CHARM 

A  ROSEBUD  has  a  certain  charm 

That  does  not  grace  the  full-blown  rose, 

It  only  promises  delight, 

Its  treasure  it  does  not  disclose. 

And  so  a  youth  with  throbbing  health 
Attracts  us  with  his  ruddy  glow  ; 

Though  later  he  gain  fame  and  wealth 
The  man  can  never  please  us  so. 


A  SIMILE 

HAVE  you  not  seen  in  airy  blue,  high-vaulted, 

A  butterfly  with  wings  pinked  'round  with  gold, 
And  spotted  with  a  dusty  blue,  assaulted 

By  some  smooth-sailing  swallow  growing  bold? 

Thus  in  the  flute-song,  sorrow  seems  to  fold 
Frail  love  within  its  hov'ring  pinions  sure, 

Until  love  is  o'erpowered  and  controlled, 
Then  sorrow  swiftly  wings  through  ether  pure. 


34 


THE  HONEY-ROVER 

0  BLUSHING,  blood-red  clover, 
Beneath  the  sunny  sky, 

No  lad  nor  poet-rover 
Can  love  thee  well  as  I. 

1  come  o'er  meadows  winging, 
On  gauzy  pinions  spread, 

I  come  a  love-song  singing 
To  thee,  my  clover  red. 

i 

Thy  golden-honeyed  treasure 

I  often  seek  to  drain: 
But  love  is  free  from  measure, 
To  fathom  love  is  vain. 

Each  day,  O  red,  red  flower, 
New  pleasures  thou  dost  give; 

Each  day  haunting  thy  bower, 
I  drink  of  love  and  live. 


35 


THE  MOUNTAINS 

I  WANT  to  live  where  mountains  are, 

Purple  or  green  or  white; 
Content  to  dwell  from  the  wild  sea  far 
If  only  I  am  where  the  mountains  are, 

To  know  and  feel  their  might. 

I  envy  not  broad,  fertile  slopes, 

Though  blossom-crowned  and  fair; 

The  mountains  gave  me  all  my  hopes, 

So  envy  I  not  sultry  slopes, 
But  love  the  mountain  air. 

Lo,  I  was  born  where  clear  springs  leap 

From  out  the  mountain's  side, 
There  let  me  sing  and  love  and  sleep, 
As  others  have  done  where  the  same  springs  leap ; 

As  others  have  done  and  died. 


APHRODITE 

SHE  who  came  from  nether  deep, 
Born  amid  the  pearly  crest, 
Steeps  for  thee  a  drink  of  sleep, 
Yea,  a  drink  of  weird-like  rest — 
Breeding  now  soft-amber  trances, 
Now  the  golden-purple  fancies 
Like  the  clouds  that  haunt  the  west. 
Thou  dost  love  the  lithe  arms  white 
Garlanding  a  silver  lyre, 
Magic  eyes  that  breed  desire, 
Tuneful  songs  of  swift  delight, 
Tinted  shoulder's  graceful  curve 
And  the  form's  fair  mien  and  swerve 
When  with  every  pulsing  breeze 
Maiden's  tresses  fall  and  rise, 
Wanton  as  the  willow  trees, 

Sunny  as  the  cloudless  skies. 
Then  it  is  thy  soul  has  pleasure 


37 


In  their  smiling,  swooning  measure, 
As  the  wave  that  towers  high 
Finds  delight  in  bending  low, 
Then  again  to  rise  and  vie 
While  the  tide  doth  come  and  go; 
As  the  long-winged  swallows  fly, 
Kissing  earth,  then  kissing  sky, 
Telling  men  that  showers  are  nigh. 
All  that  charms  thee  with  its  grace — 
Speechless  painting,  sculptured  face- 
Leaves  upon  thy  soul  its  trace. 
She  who  came  from  nether  deep, 
Born  amid  the  pearly  crest, 
Steeps  for  thee  a  drink  of  sleep, 
Yea,  a  drink  of  weird-like  rest — 
Breeding  now  soft-amber  trances, 
Now  the  golden-purple  fancies 
Like  the  clouds  that  haunt  the  west. 


MY  SOUL  IS  LIKE  A  FLOWERING 
PLANT 

MY  soul  is  like  a  flowering  plant, 

Azalea  is  its  name,  I  ween; 
For  months  and  months  it  seems  as  dead 

And  loses  all  its  splendid  green. 

But  when  it  blooms  at  Easter-tide 
Its  gorgeous  blooms  are  in  excess. 

So  when  my  soul  awakes  to  sing 
Its  lyric  notes  are  numberless. 


DE  PROFUNDIS 

Music  and  ease  and  roses  sweet, 

Her  presence,  her  voice,  my  smiles  to  greet. 

Then  I  am  happy,  my  joy's  complete. 

Clouds  and  rain  and  wintry  sleet, 
Weary  and  tired  with  bruised  feet, 
Friendless  and  lone,  my  sorrow's  complete. 


39 


LOVE  EVERYWHERE 

CUPID  rises  from  his  sleep, 
Fills  his  quiver  with  his  arrows, 
Comes  a-smiling  down  the  steep 
Driving  all  his  flitting  sparrows. 
Lo !  his  mother  sends  him  dight 
With  the  flowers  red  and  white- 
Roses  red  to  crown  the  lover, 
Soft  anemone  the  other. 
Far  and  wide  his  arrows  fall, 
In  the  cot  and  in  the  hall, 
In  the  school  and  at  the  ball; 
Love  is  present  everywhere. 
First  a  smile  and  then  a  glance, 
And  a  meeting  at  the  stair, 
And  afterwards  a  dizzy  dance, 
Love  is  present  everywhere 
In  a  glass  of  ruddy  wine, 
In  a  smile  or  valentine. 


40 


THINE  EYES  ARE  BLUE 

THINE  eyes  are  blue  as  an  azure  sea 
When  balmy  is  the  sunny  air. 

Much  more  of  Heaven  they  bear  to  me 
Than  melodies  and  perfumes  rare. 

Thine  eyes  are  blue  as  an  azure  sea, 
And  in  their  brightness,  Oh,  so  sweet, 

I  see  thy  soul  so  fair,  so  free, 
And  lo!  I  falter  at  thy  feet. 

Thine  eyes  are  blue  as  an  azure  sea, 
And  with  their  penetrating  light 

Thou  seest  and  thou  knowest  me. 
Were  I  but  worthier  in  thy  sight! 


UNDER  THE  APPLE-TREE  LYING 

UNDER  the  apple-tree  lying, 

'Mid  blossoms  part  white  and  part  red, 
Death,  ill  content,  with  love  vying, 

Death  with  pink  Love  being  fed, 
Sapped  is  my  heart-soul  and  dying; 

So  cover  with  blossoms  my  head, 
Under  the  apple-tree  lying, 

'Mid  blossoms  part  white  and  part  red. 

So  cover  with  blossoms  my  head, 

Weaving  a  song  of  desire, 
A-glitter  with  shimmering  thread, 

Half-flushed  with  its  faint  flaming  fire 
Until  my  sick  heart-soul  has  fled, 

Death  sounding  boldly  his  lyre, 
So  cover  with  blossoms  my  head, 

Weaving  a  song  of  desire. 


42 


I   CANNOT  YOUR   BURNING  WOUNDS 
HEAL 

THOUGH  you  open  your  heart  to  my  eyes, 

Though  your  words  your  strong  passion  reveal, 
Though  you  tell  me  your  longings  and  sighs, 

Yet  I  cannot  your  burning  wounds  heal. 
Do  not  think  that  your  love  I  despise, 

But  'tis  true  that  I  wish  'twere  unreal, 
Since  I  cannot  your  soul  idolize, 

Since  I  cannot  your  burning  wounds  heal. 

Oh,  does  not  another  youth  wait 

With  a  manlier  heart  than  is  mine? 
Why  not  love  him,  fair  one,  ere  too  late? 

Look  with  favor  on  his  heart,  benign. 
You  would  weary  of  me  and  my  dreams, 

And  would  droop  in  my  charmed  solitude: 
You  would  weary  of  mountains  and  streams, 

For  but  these  are  my  drink  and  my  food. 


43 


THE  ETERNAL  CALM 

THE  long  shadows  of  purple  light 

Played  o'er  the  chapel  floor, 
All  else  was  still  and  dark  as  night, 

I  paused  beneath  its  door. 

I  looked  without  where  fields  were  spread 
With  daisies  white  and  yellow, 

The  pale  blue  sky  arched  overhead 
Raining  its  life-light  mellow. 

Then  I  forgot  the  marble  fane 

Where  many  souls  find  balm ; 
I  strolled  through  fields  and  leafy  lane 

And  felt  th'  eternal  calm. 


44 


NEPTUNE 

THROW  thy  cloak  of  purple  bright, 

Fringed  with  silks  of  snowy  white; 

Bid  the  mermaids  dance  till  weary, 

Till  the  day  is  cool  and  dreary, 

Till  the  quivering,  saddened  ray, 

Peering  into  caverns  gray, 

Makes  each  pebble  seem  a  treasure 

And  the  seeing  it  a  pleasure. 

Gurgling  round  the  wave-washed  caves 

Heap  the  sea-weed  o'er  the  graves 

Of  the  shipwrecked  sailors.     Roam, 

Roam,  and  bathe  thyself  in  foam; 

Dip  thy  shoulders  in  the  main, 

Lift  thy  wand  and  rise  again. 

'Tis  thy  might  that  I  admire, 

Thy  bold  ruthlessness  so  dire, 

And  thy  frenzy  without  gage; 

Cast  thyself  in  wildest  rage, 

Chime  the  nervous  bells  at  sea 


45 


To  your  mutt'ring  minstrelsy; 

Gather  pearls  of  snowy  whiteness, 

Of  unsullied  smoothy  brightness, 

For  thy  father  Saturn,  old, 

In  his  palace  wrought  of  gold, 

All  inlaid  with  precious  gems, 

Fit  for  costly  diadems. 

Throw  thy  cloak  of  purple  bright, 

Fringed  with  silks  of  snowy  white, 

Till  night  comes  with  lullings  teeming, 

Beckoning  thee  to  silent  dreaming. 


THE  MOTH'S  REMORSE 

MY  downy  wings,  despoiled  of  feathered  dew, 
All  day  have  flapped  in  vain  against  the  air. 

Although  once  tinted  with  an  azure  hue, 

No  longer  can  they  flit  in  noon-day  glare; 
My  passing  fancy  brought  me  but  despair. 

To  heights  aerial  in  cloudless  sky, 

To  sylvan  dells  which  shade  the  violet, 

How  often  in  my  dreams  I  gently  hie. 

For  one  short  hour  my  woes  I  would  forget 
And  listless  flit  about  some  rivulet. 

But  ere  I  wake  I  hear  the  zephyrs  moan, 
I  hear  the  dryad  tune  her  woodland  fife 

To  plaintive  lays.     I  wake  only  to  groan 
With  weary  thoughts  of  a  returning  strife 
The  end  of  which  I  shall  not  find  in  life. 


47 


CLASS  SONG  '99 

ERE  life's  shadows  gather  'round, 

Ere  we  feel  deep  sorrow's  gloom, 
Let  us  revel  here  together 

While  our  youth  still  knows  its  bloom. 
Many  a  joy  without  dull  worry, 

Many  a  rose  without  a  thorn, 
We  have  plucked  here  free  from  hurry, 

Through  the  sunny  hours  of  morn. 

CHORUS 

'Ninety-nine,  we'll  sing  to  thee, 
'Ninety-nine  for  now  and  aye, 

'Ninety-nine  and  Trinity 

Be  our  watch-word  through  life's  day. 


48 


Some  may  bring  our  College  dear 

Storied  treasures  of  rich  gold, 
While  the  burden  of  another 

May  be  fame  or  learning  old; 
Though  our  goals  may  differ  ever, 

Let  our  hearts  remain  the  same; 
Not  with  shame,  but  glory,  rather, 

We  shall  crown  our  College's  name. 

So  we'll  drink  to  'Ninety-nine, 

While  our  banner  floats  so  bright — 
Here's  to  her  health,  here's  to  thine, 

Loudly  cheer  the  red  and  white. 
Though  the  echo  of  our  singing 

Dies  upon  the  Summer  air, 
Love  about  our  hearts  is  clinging, 

Clinging  fresh  as  ivy  there. 


49 


WHEN   THOU  ART   HEEDLESS 

WHEN  from  me  thy  fond  love's  restrained, 
When  thou  art  heedless  of  my  needs, 
I  languid  grow,  my  heart  is  pained, 
Not  only  pained  but  aches  and  bleeds. 

But  when  once  more  thou  art  benign, 
When  comes  thy  pleasant  smile  again, 
Then  happy  is  this  heart  of  mine 
As  is  a  flower  after  fresh  rain. 


LOVE'S  UNREST 

As  THE  sea-gull,  arching  down, 
Lingers  on  the  troubled  wave, 

When  the  billows  wildly  frown 
Yearning  heaven's  clouds  to  lave. 

So,  my  love,  I  haunt  thy  breast, 
Which  is  heaving  with  emotions; 

And  I  know  thy  sweet  unrest, 
As  the  sea-gull  knows  the  Ocean's. 


LOVE  IS  NOT  ALL 

IF  love  were  all,  if  love  were  all, 

I  would  not  hear  the  warrior's  call, 

But  linger  in  my  stately  hall 

To  hear  the  strains  of  music  fall, 

That  I  might  feast  my  heart,  ah  yes, 

On  lovely  melody's  excess, 

Which  rouses  with  its  powerful  might 

My  heart  athirst  for  wild  delight, 

But  love's  not  all  when  honor  stands 

Pleading  his  cause  with  outstretched  hands. 

That  love  were  all,  could  I  but  think 
I  would  not  linger  at  the  brink 
Of  love's  bright  ocean  deep  and  wide 
But  dive  beneath  its  surging  tide, 
And  lose  myself  beneath  its  foam 
Within  its  depths  to  live  and  roam; 
But  love's  not  all  when  virtue  sweet 
Looks  up  a  kindred  face  to  greet. 
For  love  falls  helpless  at  her  feet. 


Nor  is  love  all  when  sacrifice 
Begs  for  a  life  with  saddened  eyes. 
The  young  monk  immaturely  old 
Within  his  cloistered  cell  so  cold, 
With  trembling  hands  fingers  his  beads 
Praying  for  others  and  their  needs. 
By  discipline  his  soul  is  taught, 
And  wanton  love  is  not  his  thought. 
The  world  and  all  its  hopes,  forsooth, 
He  sacrificed  when  but  a  youth, 
That  other  men  through  him  might  be 
Made  better  for  eternity. 
The  mural  Christ  with  age  grown  dim 
Beholds  the  monk  and  blesses  him. 


A  REFRAIN 

OH,  listen  to  my  song,  my  love, 

Oh,  listen  to  my  lay, 
And  if  it  seems  too  long,  my  love, 

Just  tell  me  so,  I  pray; 
Oh,  listen  to  my  song,  my  love, 

Oh,  listen  to  my  lay. 

Were  I  a  babbling  brook,  my  love, 
And  thou  a  silver  stream, 

We'd  glide  together  on,  my  love, 
And  life  would  be  a  dream, 

Were  I  a  babbling  brook,  my  love, 
And  thou  a  silver  stream. 

If  I  were  Heaven's  dew,  my  love, 
And  thou  a  blushing  flower, 

Would  not  I  kiss  thy  lips,  my  love, 
And  haunt  thy  leafy  bower, 

If  I  were  Heaven's  dew,  my  love, 
And  thou  a  blushing  flower. 


53 


If  I  were  a  brave  fisher-lad, 

And  thou  wert  Laurelei, 
Then  would  I  linger  here  so  sad 

Or  in  thy  soft  arms  lie, 
If  I  were  a  brave  fisher-lad, 

And  thou  wert  Laurelei? 

If  I  were  young  Adonis,  love, 
And  thou  fair  Venus  sweet, 

Oh,  whither  would  we  wander,  love, 
With  winged  sandals  fleet, 

If  I  were  young  Adonis,  love, 
And  thou  fair  Venus  sweet? 

And  so  I've  sung  my  song,  my  love, 
And  so  I've  sung  my  lay, 

Oh,  did  it  seem  too  long,  my  love, 
I  did  not  hear  thee  say; 

And  so  I've  sung  my  song,  my  love, 
And  so  I've  sung  my  lay. 


54 


A  RAIN-CLOUD 

A  RAIN-CLOUD  hangs  above  my  head, 

Yet  whither  can  I  fly? 
The  storm  is  ever  gathering, 

And  threatening  in  the  sky. 

A  tear-cloud  hangs  above  my  heart; 

Ah,  could  I  but  know  why ! 
Where'er  I  roam  it  lingers  there, 

And  sad  indeed  am  I. 


SURF  TO  ARID  SAND 

SURF  to  arid  sand; 
Dew  to  pansy  blown; 
Rain  to  thirsty  land; 
Fruit  to  seed  long  sown; 
Sleep  to  darksome  night; 
Thou  to  me,  O  Sprite. 

Water  to  the  fountain; 
Music  to  emotion; 
Valley  to  the  mountain; 
Streamlet  to  the  ocean; 
Time  to  eternity; 
I,  O  Love,  to  thee. 

55 


VIOLETS  DYING 

WITH  dew-drops  fed, 

All  velveted, 
The  pastures  green  are  lying. 

The  west  wind  sings, 

Of  Summer  springs, 
The  violets  are  dying; 

The  maiden  weeps 

E'en  as  she  sleeps 
Dreaming  of  Spring-time  hours 

When  on  her  breast, 

Her  lover's  rest, 
She  placed  the  purple  flowers. 

The  pale  moon's  rim 

That's  waning  dim 
In  heavy  grief  is  sighing, 

"  I  love  ye  still 

And  ever  will 
O  violets  now  dying  " ; 

And  so,  forsooth, 

We  weep  for  youth, 
For  hearts  of  men  grow  colder, 

When  daily  life 

Is  linked  with  strife, 
And  they  themselves  grow  older. 
England. 


WILL-O'-THE-WISP 

IF  I  were  worthy  of  thee, 
I  could  not  better  love  thee, 
For  hold  I  naught  above  thee, 
Will-o'-the-Wisp,  sweet  fay. 
Although  thou  wilt  not  marry, 

0  love,  my  evening  fairy, 
Yet  let  me  still  here  tarry 
Till  comes  the  dawn  of  day. 

What  rhythm  has  thy  dancing, 
My  wandering  eyes  entrancing? 
With  deep,  beguiling  glancing 

1  seek  thy  lips  to  kiss. 

But  lo !  thou  hast  departed, 
Into  the  darkness  darted, 
And  left  me  broken-hearted 
Without  a  moment's  bliss. 


57 


TO  THE  MONTH  OF  MAY 

O  MONTH  of  sweet  deliciousness  serene, 

The  budding  of  a  year  of  peaceful  hope, 
Of  gentlest  bearing  and  of  graceful  mien ! 

Ah,  could  I  but  with  thee,  my  love,  elope, 
And  journey  over  northern  countries  cool, 

Bedecking  mountains  with  the  deepest  green, 
Hemming  with  daffodils  the  dreaming  pool 

Which  calmly  gems  the  nestling,  leafy  scene. 

The  odor  of  the  grass,  but  lately  mown — 

Which,  like  sweet  innocence,   is  sweet  though 

dead, 
Bemixed  with  perfume  of  the  tulips  blown, 

Of  yellow  petals  partly  streaked  with  red ! 
Oh,  but  to  breathe  that  fragrance  for  an  hour, 

Lying  beside  some  brooklet  icy  cold, 
In  some  deserted  and  forgotten  bower 

Where  tangled  foliage  is  manifold  I 


Where  happy  moss-elves  dance  to  tripping  meas 
ure, 
Where  silver  moonbeams  rain  through  arching 

boughs 

That,  bending,  kiss  the  earth  when  wrapt  in  pleas 
ure, 

For  since  none  laughs,  the  smiling  earth  allows; 
'Tis  yonder  that  the  white-elves  lately  played, 

Holding  each  other  by  the  hand  in  glee, 
For  there  the  grass  with  greener  gown  arrayed 
Bears  token  of  their  sportive  minstrelsy. 

How  fittingly  thou  wearest  thy  pure  name! 

How  infinitely  sweet  thy  flowery  garland! 
Within  thy  heart  there  burns  a  crystal  flame 

Which  oft  is  hymned  in  far-off  fairy  star-land. 
'Twere  good  to  have  one's  birthday  in  thy  arms, 

But  better  to  love  with  thou  present  to  smile, 
But  best  to  die  that  death  may  gain  rare  charms 

And  crown  the  casket  with  a  blossom-pile. 


59 


A  BIT  of  green  in  my  study  grows, 
The  good  it  does  me  nobody  knows; 

I  care  for  it  while  the  wild  wind  blows, 
The  good  it  does  me  nobody  knows. 

I  know  a  face  as  sweet  as  a  rose, 

The  good  it  does  me  nobody  knows; 

With  innocent  laughter  it  overflows, 
The  good  it  does  me  nobody  knows. 

To  sing  a  song  when  my  own  heart  glows, 
The  good  it  does  me  nobody  knows. 

Seducing  like  a  Siren  my  woes, 

The  good  it  does  me  nobody  knows: 


60 


NO  HEATHER  BLOOMS  ON  BEN  VENUE 

No  HEATHER  of  pink  nor  purple  hue 
Buds  and  blossoms  on  Ben  Venue; 
And  furthermore  no  one  knows  why 
Its  graceful  slopes  deserted  lie. 

Why  sittest,  Sweet,  beneath  the  yew? 
Thy  friends  are  many,  thy  lovers  not  few. 
Why  happiness  and  love  defy? 
Thou  mayest  know ;  not  I,  not  I. 


NIGHT 

How  calmly  o'er  the  earth  conies  Spirit  Night 

With  trailing  garments  of  foreboding  dark, 
All  interwoven  with  myster'ous  might! 

As  foaming  billows  gain  the  high-tide  mark 
By  slow  and  imperceptible  degrees 

Until  to  further  strive  is  all  in  vain, 
Thus  deepens  night  with  every  dying  breeze, 

Giving  release  from  toilsome  strife  and  pain. 


61 


SPRING 

I  DANCE  and  sing, 

All-welcoming, 
With  many  a  bright  gay  flower; 

My  name  is  Spring, 

And  I  do  fling 
Many  a  fresh'ning  shower 

To  gladden  man's  heart 

And  make  buds  start 
Where  children  love  to  play 

With  voices  keen 

On  meadows  green 
All  in  the  month  of  May. 

The  old  man  walks 

And  spritely  talks 
Of  robins  and  the  wildwood, 

And  he  will  stop 

To  spin  a  top 
Just  as  he  did  in  childhood. 


62 


The  maiden  smiles 

As  youth  beguiles 
And  soon  love-words  are  spoken. 

The  lover  knocks, 

Her  heart  unlocks — 
May  that  love  not  be  broken  1 

The  student  tired, 

By  many  admired, 
Straight  to  his  casement  hurries: 

"  Tis  Spring.     I'll  roam 

Far  from  my  home, 
And  leave  my  books  and  worries." 

I  dance  and  sing, 

All-welcoming, 
With  many  a  bright,  gay  flower; 

My  name  is  Spring, 

Oh,  let  me  fling 
Myself  into  thy  bower. 


UNION 

GIVE  me  of  thy  full  life, 
And  I  will  give  of  mine, 

Pure  as  the  snow  on  the  mountains 
And  white  as  the  foaming  brine. 

O  wondrous  power  in  union — 

A  mystery  profound — 
For  thou  and  I  are  strongest 

When  to  each  other  bound. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  DIAMOND 

THE  Spirit  of  the  Diamond,  when  it  tries 
To  free  itself  from  its  fair  crystal  hold, 

Like  human  love  within  a  human  heart, 
Is  then  most  lovely  when  it  is  most  bold: 

Like  human  love  within  a  human  heart 
That  never  loses  fire  nor  grows  cold, 

But  gleams  and  glitters  of  its  very  self — 
Such  is  the  Diamond  Spirit  in  its  hold. 


A  SCARLET  CLOUD 

A  SCARLET  cloud, 

A  young  soul's  shroud, 
Comes  drifting  through  the  blue; 

Immaculate, 

Yet  passionate, 
So  beautiful,  so  true; 

A  flowing  flood, 

Of  burning  blood 
That  speaks  of  love  yet  living; 

Frail  as  a  rose 

That  sweetly  grows, 
Its  pure  soul  freely  giving; 

It  weeps  aloud, 

This  scarlet  cloud, 
Its  tears  become  smooth  pearls, 

And  on  the  earth 

In  joy  and  mirth 
Are  gathered  by  fair  girls. 

It  sings  and  soars 

And  yearning  pours 
Its  essence  everywhere. 

The  north  wind  comes 

With  its  fife  and  drums 
And  the  cloud  pales  in  the  air. 

Rutland,  Vermont. 


LYRIC— LIFE 

YES,  cut  me  short  of  a  few  years  of  life, 
But  while  I  live  let  life  be  full  and  sweet; 
As  full  and  sweet  as  these  blooms  at  my  feet. 

No  muffled  drums  for  me,  or  funeral  fife! 

No  jealousy  or  malice,  woe  or  strife, 

But  joy  and  gladness,  happiness  and  mirth — 
The  spirits  fine  that  quicken  us  of  earth: 

Let  me  but  marry  these  and  call  them  wife ! 

Cut  short  my  life,  but  give  me  friends  of  worth, 
And  while  I  live  let  them  about  me  throng. 
No  dirge  for  me,  but  one  clear,  flowing  song! 

This  is  eternal  life,  here,  on  this  earth! 


66 


LINES 

THOUGH  some  envy  thy  pureness, 
Though  many  wish  thee  ill, 

They  cannot  hurt  thy  sureness, 
So  be  thou  happy  still. 

And  though  thou  growest  weary 

In  each  task  dutiful, 
Though  all  the  world  seem  dreary, 

Yet  be  thou  beautiful. 


ONE  FLESH 

WHERE  is  a  flower  that  lives  without  fresh  dew, 
Where  is  a  stream  that  does  not  sometimes  flood, 
Where  is  a  plant  that  grows  without  the  sun  ? 
As  long  as  souls  inhabit  flesh  and  blood 
So  long  shall  mighty  Heaven  decree  that  two 
Responsive  hearts  shall  be  by  union  one. 


THE  ACOLYTE 

AT  vesper-time  within  a  cathedral  grand 
I  kindly  watched  a  sweet-faced  acolyte, 

Who,  with  a  candle  in  his  outstretched  hand, 
Lighted  the  tapers  on  the  altar  white. 

A  week  from  then  that  pure  young  lad  had  died, 
And  as  I  looked  out  o'er  the  darksome  night 

His  childlike  form  and  visage,  deified, 
Appeared  in  Heaven  as  God's  acolyte. 

And  when  at  last  each  star-flame  gently  beamed, 
He  passed  away  from  sight  as  first  he  came; 

And  then  I  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  and  dreamed, 
And  wished  that  I  were  only  as  free  from  blame. 


68 


TO  KILLINGTON  PEAK 

THOU  rustic  haunt  of  soothing  quietness, 

High-towering,  king  of  the  mountains  near, 
Bedecked  with  slanting  boughs  and  leafy  tress, 

Oh,  never  are  thy  twigs  and  flowers  sear, 
For  misty  clouds  stoop  down  with  robes  of  white 

To  bathe  thy  trees,  with  luxury  o'erweighed, 
And  as  the  priest  with  holy  vestments  dight 

Pronouncing  absolution  on  the  strayed 
Give  calm,  celestial,  and  a  ray  of  joy 

Which  all  the  powers  of  earth  cannot  destroy. 

Away,  away  from  heated,  sun-burnt  plain 

To  elf-like  stillness  of  thy  ice-cool  dell : 
Away,  away  and  quiet  whirling  brain 

And  shut  the  fingered  books  in  study-cell, 
To  live  as  free  as  linnet  or  the  wren 

Amid  the  trees  and  spreading  bushes  thick, 
To  leave  and  quite  forget  the  ways  of  men 

And  no  more  worry  till  the  heart  is  sick. 
Oh,  happy,  happy  life — one  lyric  strain — 

But  which,  alas !  too  few  can  ever  gain ! 


69 


There  breezes  blow  for  which  the  cities  pine ; 
There  are  cold  springs  which  might  sate  parched 

lips, 
O  emerald  and  dew-bestudded  shrine, 

A  thousand  are  thy  sloping  shell-like  dips, 
With  here  and  there  a  vernal  vista  deep 

Through  which   there  runs  a  rushing  crystal 

brook 
Where  some  Endymion  would  melt  in  sleep 

Or  some  Narcissus,  by  his  imaged  look 
Enamored,  would  change  into  a  flower 

And  pour   his    fragrant   soul    throughout   the 
bower. 

Oh,  where's  the  end  of  spinning  lyric  rhyme, 

Recounting  all  thy  charms  with  feeble  praise ! 
Delicious  is  an  hour  in  Fancy's  clime 

Where  shimmer  countless  labyrinthian  ways, 
For  there  my  heart  forgets  its  gnawing  pain, 

Forgets  and  upward  mounts  to  Heaven's  sphere 
And  pauses  there  to  hear  the  starry  strain, 

As  lingers  in  the  air  a  brown  leaf  sear 
Ere  it  falls  helpless,  void  of  any  mirth; 

Thus  sinks  my  heart  back  to  the  woeful  earth. 


70 


THE  LABORS  OF  OTHERS 

As  ROUND  the  festive  board  we  sit  to  drink 
And  eat  of  all  that  is  by  man  styled  good, 

We  do  not  often  stop,  I  fear,  to  think 

Of  those  who  sowed  and  harvested  the  food. 

Religious  Tolerance,  democracy, 

And  education  spreading  far  and  wide — 

These,  too,  are  fruits  which  now  we  have  at  will; 
For  these  men  suffered  much  and  were  denied. 


THE  PARASITE 

THOU  sayest  that  I  draw  my  life  from  thee, 
That  I  am  but  the  brightness  of  thy  light; 

It  may  be  true;  I  will  not  disagree. 
Is  not  the  mistletoe  a  parasite  ? 

And  yet  the  mistletoe  is  loved  by  all, 
The  Druids  used  to  cut  it  with  a  knife 

Of  gold.     And  now  in  Christmas  festive  hall 
The  lover  seeks  beneath  it  a  fair  wife. 


TO  A  RAINBOW 

RAINBOW  beauty  of  the  mist, 
By  the  evening  breeze  unkissed, 
Could  I  bind  my  sandals  on, 
Gauzy  pinions  could  I  don, 
Cloudward  would  I  quickly  soar, 
High  above  the  dells,  and  o'er 
Mossy  lairs  still  wet  with  dew 
Of  bright  adamantine  hue, 
Till  I  reached  the  mystic  clime, 
Hallowed  by  the  years  of  time, 
In  the  cloudy  haunts  that  rise 
Like  deep  snow-drifts  in  the  skies. 
Does  the  perfume  of  the  flowers 
Wreathe  about  thy  misty  bowers, 
As  the  incense  finds  it  way 
Through  the  vaulted  high  archway? 


72 


Psyche,  Psyche  of  the  cloud, 
Night  is  coming  with  her  shroud, 
Thou  wilt  soon  be  lost  in  mist, 
Rainbow  Psyche,  still  unkissed. 
Like  a  pale  and  waning  flower 
Hidden  in  the  forest  bower, 
Like  a  maiden  who  would  die 
If  she  could  but  hear  the  sigh 
Of  her  lover  lost  at  sea, 
Borne  by  billows  tenderly; 
Fainter  dost  thou  ever  grow 
In  the  cloudy  hills  of  snow. 
Tinted  by  the  breath  of  Heaven, 
Which  has  thee  thy  beauty  given, 
Surely  thou  canst  never  die, 
Rainbow  Psyche  of  the  sky, 
And  thou  wilt  remain  to  me 
Goddess  of  Eternity. 


73 


PAUL 

POOR  Paul,  you  have  left  me  to  go  and  play 
In  the  Garden  of  Life  just  over  the  way; 

So  all  day  long  you  can  play  at  ball 
With  the  other  boys  in  the  Garden  there; 

And  while  I  work  in  my  study,  Paul, 
I'll  think  of  thee  in  the  open  air. 

Ah,  this  is  just  what  it  means  to  me 

As  into  the  Garden  your  swift  steps  flee! 

But  you  will  come  as  I  sit  and  think, 
And  stand  by  my  chair  as  I  sit  to  write, 

So  I  can  see  your  young  face  pink, 
Your  hair  so  brown  and  your  brow  so  white. 


74 


Meanwhile  I'll  struggle  on  hour  by  hour 
And  spend  my  strength  and  spend  my  power, 

But  this  will  all  end,  my  Paul,  some  day, 
And  down  on  the  floor  my  pen  shall  drop; 

The  people  will  mutter  that  pass  my  way, 
"Alas,  another  man's  heart  did  stop!  " 

Then  into  the  Garden  I'll  haste  to  go, 
Where  I  will  find  thee  all  aglow, 

And  you  can  tell  me  what  you've  seen 
Of  birds  and  flowers,  my  Pink  and  White, 

Where  the  Garden  of  Life  is  all  serene, 
And  nothing  can  harm  by  day  or  by  night. 


75 


THE  GRAPE  AND  THE  WINE 

LET  me  hear  with  your  ears, 

You  can  hear  with  mine ; 
Let  me  sing  with  your  lips 

One  sweet  song  divine. 

Let  me  look  with  your  eyes 

Right  straight  into  mine, 
Is  there  aught  to  choose,  dear, 

Twixt  the  grape  and  wine? 


THE  WREATH  OF  SLEEP 

CULL  poppies  red  and  poppies  white, 
A  fainting  garland  for  me  twine, 
Thou  sister-spirit  of  pale  Death, 
And  bid  me  call  the  garland  mine. 
Cull  poppies  red  and  poppies  white — 
The  flowers  weird  of  Lethe's  token — 
Oh,  let  me  feel  their  magic  breath, 
And  swoon  until  the  spell  is  broken. 


76 


THE  TREASURES  OF  LIFE 

UNRAVELING  truth  from  one  great  snarl  of  lies, 
And  getting  gold  from  out  the  dirt-mixed  rock, 

From  out  our  lusts  and  passions  seeking  love, 
Carving  an  angel  from  a  marble  block! 

Oh,  Life,  thou  hast  thy  treasures  hid  in  dross! 

Happy  the  man  who  can  a  fair  pearl  find, 
But  happier  he  who  can  the  pearl  close  hold 

Until  it  has  transformed  his  heart  and  mind. 


LIFE  STRENGTH 

WITHIN  the  elm  the  sap  is  surging, 
So  restless,  for  it  would  be  free: 

New  shoots  from  old  twigs  are  emerging, 
Fresh-varnished  leaves  crown  last  year's  tree. 

Within  my  heart  fresh  strength  is  yearning: 
With  throbbings  comes  its  rush  and  flow. 

My  flaming  blood  is  brighter  burning, 
My  new  life  from  my  old  doth  grow. 


77 


REPOSE 

O  SWEET  repose,  thou  poesie  of  living, 

With  healing  balm  thou  canst  not  come  too  oft; 
Such  blessed  quietness  and  full  ease  giving 

To  weary  hearts,  till  into  slumber  soft 
They  pass  and  dream  of  some  hedge-girted  land 

Where  luxury  is  at  its  best  and  shows 
Dense  orchards  bending  low  with  ripe  fruit,  and 

Many  a  thornless,  finely  scented  rose; 
Here  like  the  lotus-eaters,  dwell  at  ease 

Thy  dreamers,  Sprite,  with  nothing  to  displease. 


,  how  can  I  do  wrong 
When  I  have  kissed  thy  face — 
A  mirror  of  God's  grace, 
A  sweet  and  hallowed  song. 

When  I  am  tempted  most 
To  taste  the  joy  of  sin, 
Do  thou  then  but  begin 

And  tell  me  what  'twould  cost. 


WHEN  LOVE  WAS  SOLD 

THE  air  was  wild  with  frosty  snow, 
The  roads  were  covered  high  and  low; 
And  home  I  started  in  the  wind 
And  hardly  could  my  pathway  find. 

When  tired  I  stumbled  at  the  door, 
The  home  was  gone  I  knew  of  yore; 
The  frost  had  entered  and  the  cold, 
The  sacred  fire  of  love  was  sold. 


79 


DARK  AND  DAMP 

DARK  and  damp  along  the  sea, 

Fog  and  dew  and  mist; 
Life  plods  'long  so  drearily, 

Challenging  with  fist. 

Where  has  all  the  sunshine  gone, 

That  no  more  it  meets  us  ? 
Since  young  Hope  has  ceased  to  smile, 

Melancholy  greets  us. 


BY   PASSION   SWEPT 

I  CANNOT  preach  a  bread-and-water  creed 
Dry  as  the  dust;  with  passion  set  forth  there 
As  something  void  of  goodness,  and  as  bare 

Of  fruit  as  is  some  health-destroying  weed. 

A  man  whose  heart  is  ne'er  by  passion  swept, 
And  knows  not  what  absorbing  friendship  is, 

Who  has  not  cherished  hopes,   and  smiled  and 

wept, 
I  envy  not  what  happiness  is  his. 


80 


TWO  REVELATIONS 

AN  artist  tried  for  many  a  year 

To  paint  an  angel's  face ; 
But  not  until  in  vision  clear 
He  saw  an  angel  standing  near, 

Could  he  its  beauty  trace. 

A  fair  youth  sang  of  love's  delight 

When  the  flush  of  youth  was  his; 
But  not  until  he  met  one  night 
A  face  aglow,  a  warm  heart  bright, 
Did  he  sing  of  love  as  it  is. 

TIME 

"  THE  days  are  not  half  long  enough, 
The  weeks  fly  all  too  soon," 
Sings  loud  the  youth, 
Who  longs  for  truth, 
Ere  comes  his  own  life's  noon. 

"  The  light  is  dim,  the  ways  are  rough. 
O  night,  come  with  calm  sleep," 
The  old  man  moans, 
And  his  spirit  groans, 
For  the  roads  of  life  are  steep. 


81 


QUATRAINS 


RELIEF 

IN  pain  and  bowel-gnawing  care  and  grief 
He  stared  and  looked  about  him  for  relief; 
But  when  he  upward  rose  and  sought  a  friend, 
His  grief,  and  care,  and  pain  were  at  an  end. 


GOD'S  LAW  AND   MAN'S  LAW 

COME  close  and  let  me  press  my  face  to  thine; 

We're  one  in  heart,  why  should  our  flesh  be 

parted? 
Though  God's  and  man's  law  may  not  now  agree, 

Yet  all  will  end  in  God,  whence  all  hath  started. 


SPRING  MISTS 

I  SEE  the  level  lawn  as  far  as  eye  can  reach, 
And  just  above  it  hangs  a  mist  as  on  the  sea; 

These  are  the  days  of  yearnings,  Friends,  vague, 

indistinct, 
Yet  reaching  from  our  depths  to  all  eternity. 


WITHOUT  A  CARE 

FROM  flesh-consuming  air  and  burning  heat 
On  mountain  glade  there  is  a  cool  retreat, 
Likewise  with  thee,  my  friend,  I  am  at  ease, 
For  we,  without  a  care,  each  other  please. 


86 


MAN'S  ADVOCATE 

THE  crying  wind,  the  blast  of  cutting  snow, 
A  broken  heart,  a  body  bruised  and  scarred ; 

O  God,  all  nature  speaks  in  man's  behalf! 
Eternal  Love,  let  not  thy  name  be  marred! 

New  York  City. 


ONE  LANGUAGE 

THERE    is    one    tongue — one   language — all    can 
learn, 

Both  Jew  and  Gentile,  Greek  and  Arab  bold. 
Heart  speaks  to  heart,  for  love  can  all  discern, 

A  language  new  each  day,  yet  old,  so  old. 

Bern,  Switzerland. 


MY  FRESCOES 

MY  bedroom  walls  are  bare  and  cold  and  white, 
So  I  have  frescoed  them  with  fancy  free : 

'Here  are  two  wrestlers,  there  an  iron-clad  knight, 
Then  comes  a  wreath  of  maidens  in  sportive 
glee. 


INSIDIOUS 

SOMETHING  insidious  in  those  good  smokes 
There  was,  my  friend,  beneath  those  leafy  oaks, 
Something  that  made  our  hearts  more  free  to  speak 
Just  what  we  felt;  and  we  were  kind  and  meek. 


OH,  bear  me  to  the  altar  of  my  God, 

With  blood  spilled  and  with  wounds  in  side  and 

wrist, 

But  let  those  wounds  be  made  by  raging  foes, 
Not  by  false  friends  who  have  my  own  lips  kissed. 


THE  CLEAR  PERSPECTIVE 

WHEN  mad  infatuation  has  consumed  its  strength, 
And  passion  lies  down  prostrate  on  the  earth  full 

length, 

Then  do  I  have  a  vision  clear  and  accurate 
Of  health  and  life  and  death,  eternity  and  fate. 


89 


ALONE 

WHEN  all  my  friends  have  parted  and  have  gone, 
I  listless  lie  and  cannot  sing  a  song, 
But  when  my  blood  with  strong  affection  leaps 
Up  from  my  heart  rush  lyrics  in  a  throng. 


A  SHOWER  OF  MUSIC 

A  SHOWER  of  music  from  the  organ  pealed, 
The  vaulted  roof  with  melody  was  ceiled, 
And  from  the  song-flood  came  a  happy  voice, 
"  Commit  thy  soul  to  God.     Rejoice!     Rejoice 


90 


FAME 

THE  child  with  rosy  fingers  prints  its  name 
Upon  the  silver  sheen  of  shining  snow. 

There  is  in  every  man  desire  for  fame, 
But  some  conceal  it  as  they  older  grow. 


THE  WORTHY 

HE  who  deserves  love  most  is  oft  loved  least; 
The  poor  and  hungry  never  sit  at  feast, 
But  some  one  surfeited,  with  senses  dull, 
Lets  spill  his  venom  o'er  the  beautiful. 


THE  ROSE  AND  THE  STEM 

THE  rose  of  joy  blooms  on  the  stem  of  woe, 
Thus  sages  teach,  with  faces  all  serene; 

Alas,  I  wish  with  me  'twere  only  so, 

The  stem  I  own,  the  rose  I  have  not  seen. 


SACRIFICING   LOVE 

I  LOVE  you  for  your  weakness,  O  my  friend, 
I  love  you  for  the  greatness  of  your  soul; 

I  love  you  for  your  griefs  and  will  defend 
You  though  by  doing  so  I  lose  my  goal. 


92 


A  SHORT  STORY 

IN  olden  times  poets  were  much  extolled, 

And  for  their  brows  were  wreathed  fair  crowns 
of  glory. 

Only  a  few  now  care  for  poets'  dreams, 

But  many  cry,  "  Give  me  a  good  short  story." 


WHAT  I  DESIRE 

I'LL  give  to  thee  what  honors  thou  may'st  crave, 
The  singer's  skill,  the  painter's  happy  art, 

But  give  thou  me  the  woods,  the  fields,  the  cave, 
And  one  dear  friend  with  passion  in  his  heart. 


93 


SUBSTANCE  AND  FORM 

SINCE  substance  cannot  be  withdrawn  from  form, 
Since  color  is  not  seen  without  some  light, 

Do  you  now  wonder  that  my  heart  is  warm, 
When  thou  art  near  to  make  the  word  seem 
bright? 


A  THOUGHT  FROM  ST.  AUGUSTINE 

IF  you  could  live  forever  on  this  earth, 

And  loll  in  sunshine,  singing  some  sweet  song, 

Oh,  tell  me,  would  you  seek  a  higher  birth 
And  for  some  misty  heaven  really  long? 


94 


LOVE'S  COMPLETENESS 

As  RAVISHES  the  bee  the  clover  sweet, 
As  hungers  the  wild  lion  after  meat, 
So  eager  am  I  now  to  find  in  thee 
Love's  own  completeness  and  sincerity. 


THE  LYRIC   POET 

As  OFTEN  stands  the  singer  quite  apart 
From  the  musicians  on  the  village  street, 

So  Burns  his  lyrics  sang  with  mellow  heart 

While  Wordsworth  and  his  friends  played  soft 
chords  sweet. 


95 


WITHOUT   FEAR 

THOUGH  fruitless  doubts  and  fears  each  day  in 
crease, 

Be  not,  my  heart,  too  troubled  or  dismayed. 
Be  only  good  and  seek  a  life  of  peace, 

Then   happen   what  may,    thou   canst  not  be 
afraid. 


THE   JEWEL  AND   THE   CASKET 

I  LOVE  thy  form  not  for  its  sake  alone, 

But  for  thy  soul  which  gives  it  holy  light; 
As  I  would  prize  a  casket  where  a  stone, 
A  precious,  brilliant  jewel,  is  kept  bright. 


96 


SONNETS 


ROSE-LOVE 

HERE  let  me  rest  and  let  me  dream  and  dream 
Of  sweet  Utopia,  nor  let  me  know 
That  in  the  world  about  me  there  is  woe. 

What  but  our  sighs  shall  be  our  true  song-theme  I 

Let  thy  lips  parted  with  fond  kisses  teem, 

And  to  thy  dear  form,  prithee,  hold  me  firm 
(Beneath  our   rose-love   there   shall   gnaw  no 
worm)  ; 

We  do  not  need  to  speak,  but  only  dream. 

And  as  I  gain  thee  high  and  higher  still 

Until  the  place  is  reached  where  fullest  ease 
Shall  crown  our  young  hearts  with  life's  happy 

thrill, 
About  thyself  I  closer  draw  my  knees, 

That  I  may  feel  thy  flesh  as  'twere  my  own; 

A  lichen  clinging  to  a  mountain  stone. 


99 


ALL  THAT'S  VOLUPTUOUS 

ALL  that's  voluptuous  in  the  budding  rose, 

All  that  is  lovely  in  the  golden  west 
When  every  cloud  for  very  beauty  glows, 

All  that  is  sweet  in  dreamy  songs  of  rest, 
All  that  is  delicate  in  tracery  fine, 

All  that's  delicious  in  the  long-kept  wine, 
All  that's  luxurious  in  fruit-crowned  vine, 

Sweet  Spirit,  all  these  charms  are  thine. 

Look  thou  into  my  face  that's  dreary  grown 
Of  late,  thou  gracious  sprite  in  pureness  clad, 

And  change  to  calm  serene  my  anguished  moan 
That  I  may  once  again  be  strong  and  glad. 

Grant  this  thou  glimpse  on  earth  of  Heaven's 

light, 
My  soul's  high  altar  immaculate  and  white. 


100 


AN  AUTUMN  SUNSET 

THOU  Heaven-sent  apparition,  molten  flood 
Of  pure  translucent  amber,  wondrous  clear, 
Oft  quivering  with  strong  desire  of  love, 
Rose-tinted  clouds  and  deeper  ones  of  blood 
Give  thee  a  passionate  warmth,  such  as  in  youth 
Is  kindly  felt  with  little  thought  or  fear. 
A  purple  haze  of  richest  hue,  forsooth, 
Crowns  royally  thy  grace  and  drifts  above. 

Oh !  thou  art  like  some  grand  eternal  thought 
Which  sages  to  this  darksome  world  have  brought. 
Or  thou  art  like  some  statuary  old, 
Of  some  nude  youth  with  muscled  form  divine, 
Which  beauty-lovers  worship  though  'tis  cold; 
Such  glory,  autumn  sunset,  now  is  thine. 


101 


TO  PROF.  WINFRED  ROBERT  MARTIN, 
LL.B.,  PH.D. 

THRICE  welcome,  Sir,  to  this  the  greatest  town 
That  proud  America  can  show  or  boast; 
So  to  thy  happiness  we  would  now  toast, 

That  men  may  see  the  virtues  which  you  own 

And  that  your  honors  be  the  better  known, 
For  learning,  rich  and  full  as  luscious  fruit, 
Hast  thou  for  every  time  and  place  to  suit. 

Thrice  welcome,  Sir,  to  this  our  greatest  town ! 

From  out  a  college  which  we  all  admire, 

Where  many  a  subject  is  discussed  and  taught, 

Thou  hast  descended  to  the  Nations'  school — 
A  university  with  struggle  fraught, 

One  plays  the  student,  another  plays  the  fool, 

But  all  seek  Truth,  and  that  with  youthful  fire. 

New  York  City. 


IO2 


IF  NOT  A  FLIGHT 

IF  not  a  flight  indeed  it  is  a  flutter 

When  my  soul  seeks  to  free  itself  in  rhyme, 
And  give  to  you  what  thoughts  it  scarce  can  utter, 

That  you  may  smell  and  pluck  the  woodland 

thyme 

And   feast  on  luscious,   heaped-up   fruits  grown 
mellow — 

The  clustering  grapes  that  give  the  ruby  wine, 
The  juicy  peaches  red  with  spots  of  yellow, 

And  lustrous  cherries  rich  with  flavor  fine. 

As  seeks  a  swallow  young  to  skyward  wing 
And  sails  with  its  companions  'long  the  eaves, 

But  hath  not  yet  the  strength  and  wondrous  power, 
So  prays  my  soul  each  passing  day  and  hour 

That   it  may   reach   some   anguished  heart  that 

grieves 
With  rhyming  phrases  sweet  that  almost  sing. 


103 


FROM  A  DISTANCE 

LIKE  one  who  in  some  vast  cathedral's  nave 

With  humble  heart  counts  long  and  well  his  beads, 

Yet  does  not  dare  to  near  the  holy  shrine 

Of  Mother  Mary,  though  his  poor  heart  bleeds; 

So  now,  unseen,  unnoticed  and  forsaken, 

I  image  to  myself  thy  face,  and  crave 

Thy   blessings    pure,  —  so    yearns    my    soul    for 

thine — 
But  crave  in  vain,  my  place  usurped  and  taken. 

Yet  as  a  symbol  of  the  beautiful, 

And  as  a  symbol  of  the  good  and  true, 

Shall  I  remember  thee,  and  often  cull 

Sweet  lily-thoughts  bewet  with  love's  own  dew. 

Whole  nights  and  days,  dear,  do  I  dream  of  thee, 

Yet  dost  thou  ever  spend  one  thought  on  me  ? 


104 


TO  MELODY 

OH  melt  my  soul  into  its  essence  pure, 

For  it  would  rise  with  thee  to  cloudless  sphere 
As  though  no  more  this  earth  it  could  endure — 

This  world  so  full  of  misery,  and  drear — 
Like  caged  eagle  looking  toward  the  sky 

And  longing  for  unbounded  liberty 
To  spread  its  powerful  wings  once  more  and  fly, 

To  soar  aloft  in  endless  ecstasy. 

Where  yonder  blood-stained  sanctuary  light 
But  faintly  glimmers  in  the  incense  cloud, 

As  in  a  woodland  bower  a  sleeping  sprite 
Lies  partly  covered  by  her  leafy  shroud, 

Thence  let  me  wing  with  thee  to  Heaven's  portal, 
Sweet  melody,  angel  of  thoughts  immortal. 


105 


IN  DIFFERENT  MOODS 

IN  different  moods  have  I  my  lyrics  sung: 
Sometimes  when  weary  from  fatiguing  toil, 
Sometimes  while  laboring  in  the  healthy  soil; 

How  often  when  my  heart  by  grief's  been  wrung 
Have   white    tears   nearly   washed   the   paper 
clean ; 

And  oft  while  trodding  through  the  snow  and  sleet 
Have  I  adored  some  fay  or  goddess  queen 
With  colored  phrases  breathing  perfume  sweet. 

So  thus  in  joy  or  grief,  in  mirth  or  woe. 

In  weariness  or  in  perplexing  doubt 
Fair  numbers  from  my  young  soul  ever  flow, 

Until  a  mystic  air  is  shed  about. 
Live  on  with  me,  O  Poetry  of  Delight; 
If  thou  shouldst  die,  then  comes  my  own  life's 
night. 


1 06 


YOUTH  DYING 

MY  feverish,  ardent  youth  is  dying  fast, 
More  evenly  my  soul-flame  burns  each  day. 

The  bursts  of  passion's  blaze  strong  and  intense, 

And  then  the  swoonings  of  the  breath  and  sense. 

And  other  transient  joys  are  of  the  past. 

Much  more  of  thought  and  less  of  action  lives 
Within  my  soul,  to  guide  it  on  its  way; 

And  every  former  deed  good  counsel  gives. 

Shall  I  regret  or  shall  I  smile,  forsooth? 

Pray  would  you  have  me  sing  of  rough,  steep 

mountains 

Which  I  have  trod  with  naked,  bleeding  feet, 
Or  do  you  think  that  tears  in  rhyme  are  sweet 
Whene'er  they  flow  in  floods  from  love's  deep 

fountains? 
Nay,  nay,  I'll  sing  no  swan-song  for  my  youth. 


107 


AT  NOON 

THE  loud-voiced  locust  sings,  then  rests  a  while, 

The  Mary-Bell  rings  out  from  yon  gray  tower, 
And  workmen  through  the  bustling  streets  now 

pile; 
Some  cross  themselves  and  others  damn  the 

power 
That  makes  them  sweat  their  flesh  out  by  the 

hour. 

Only  one  lad  wears  on  his  face  a  smile, 
Pink-cheeked,  frail,  slender,  but  with  brilliant 

eye, 
Reflecting  glinting  cloud-forms  in  the  sky. 

He  dreams  of  lips  as  lush  as  juicy  fruit, 

Of  jetting  fountains  'neath  an  Eastern  moon, 

Of  some  youth,  bare  from  head  to  foot,  with  lute 
In  hand,  recalling  some  forgotten  tune, 

Thus  does  he  muse  to  wake  with  but  this  prayer, 

"  Were  I  but  born  to  breathe  a  pagan's  air." 

Rutland,  Vermont. 


108 


THAT  LETTER 

How  galloped  my  heart  when  I  received  that 

letter  1 

"Ah!  happy  must  have  been  the  carrier-dove," 
I  said.     "  For  this  's  from  him  whose  love  I  crave, 
Whose  comeliness  is  honored  far  and  near, 
To  whose  sweet  soul  my  soul  is  e'er  a  debtor; 
His  smile  has  been  my  smile,  his  tear  my  tear, 
And  if  he  would  with  my  heart  play  the  knave, 
Indeed  he  may,  for  what  he  loves  I  love." 

Thus  I  delayed  its  opening  to  woo  pleasure, 
Finding  in  expectation  ardent  joy; 
At  last  I  broke  the  seal  that  held  the  treasure, 
When  nought  of  trouble  could  my  heart  annoy, 
But  lo !     'Twas  from  another  friend !     Dull  Fate 
Was  envious  of  my  passionate  love  elate. 


109 


PLACIDITY 

HE  lets  no  one  his  heart-soul  ever  know, 

For  he  is  wrapt  in  smooth  pretensions  sleek; 
He  never  is  with  passion  all  aglow, 

Nor  does  swift  anger  pale  his  placid  cheek. 
Oh,  but  to  make  on  him  one  real  impression ! 

But  lo!  it  is  erased  ere  half-complete. 
He  makes  of  joy  and  sadness  no  confession, 

His  intellect  becomes  soon  obsolete. 

He  is  a  pool  of  stagnant  water  dark, 

Which  mirrors  naught  of  trailing  foliage, 

With  surface  never  skimmed  by  lover's  bark. 
He  is  a  white,  unprinted,  useless  page, 

Within  a  book  of  prose  and  pleasant  rhyme, 
Which  grows  throughout  eternity  of  time. 


no 


FLESH  BEAUTY 

THY    warm,    translucent    flesh,    how    wondrous 

smooth ! 
Thy  long,  lithe  limbs,  well  muscled  toward  the 

knee, 
How   pliant,   yet  how   strong,   when  thou   dost 

move! 

Thy  waist  and  hips  are  bathed  in  symmetry. 
Thy  breasts   that  closely  press  so  round  and  full, 
Thy  silvery  arms  that  hold  me  in  their  thrall, 
Thy  milk-white  neck  divinely  beautiful, 

Thy  thoughtful  face  that  wins  the  hearts  of  all. 

All  hours  are  lost  save  when  I  contemplate 
The  beautiful  in  Nature  and  in  Art, 
And  lastly  when,  with  an  inspired  heart, 

I  study  thee,  where  glory  lies  innate, 
For  other  beauties  lessen  in  their  might 
When  thou  art  present,  thou  new-moon  of  my 
night. 


in 


HONOR 

LET  honor  rule  throughout  this  land  of  ours, 

And  daily  grow  to  fair  and  high  estate 
For  honor's  sake,  though  we  are  watched  these 
hours 

By  kings  and  nations,  by  their  years  more  great. 
Nothing  for  honor  sweet  can  compensate : 

It  dignifies  the  humblest  lot  of  man, 
And  for  the  worthy  opens  Heaven's  gate, 

Needing  no  ornament  of  rank  or  clan. 

It  rests  with  us,  with  you  and  me,  my  men, 

Whether  America  in  glory  shine 
Among  the  nations  and  in  history. 

It  is  your  duty,  men,  as  well  as  mine, 
That  she  turn  not  to  sinful  mockery 

This  virtue,  honor,  which  we  love  as  men. 

New  York  City. 


I  12 


TRINITY  COLLEGE 

WHEN  through  these  halls  no  longer  I  shall  stroll, 

And  even  quite  forgotten  is  my  name, 
(For  many  a  mortal  fails  to  gain  his  goal, 

Yes,    few    are    crowned    with    long  -  enduring 

fame). 
When  through  these  halls  no  longer  I  shall  stroll, 

When  gone  forever  are  my  college  hours, 
When  from  its  nest  has  winged  away  my  soul, 

And  other  youths  dwell  happy  in  the  Towers. 

Still  may  the  perfume  of  these  days  then  fled, 
These  days  of  goodly  fellowship  and  cheer, 

Sweeter  and  sweeter  grow  as  rose-leaves  red, 
Until  our  beauteous  College  far  and  near 

By  men  be  styled  the  flower  of  the  earth, 

And  all  men  honored  who  have  given  her  worth. 

Northam  Towers,  Trinity  College, 
Hartford,  Conn. 


TO 

THOU  hast  the  power  to  frame  a  melody 
Strongly  impassioned  or  bedewed  with  woe, 
A  spirit  wrestling  with  itself  for  foe, 

A  sad  farewell  beneath  a  willow  tree, 

A  peaceful  or  a  raging  storm-swept  sea; 
All  this  is  in  thy  reach,  and  more,  yes  more, 
For  thou  canst  fetter  me  or  let  me  soar 

With  lips  apart  as  to  be  fed  by  thee. 

Thou  knowest  me  better  than  words  can  tell, 
But  since  man's  thoughts  by  words  are  signified, 
Take  thou  this  sonnet,  friend,  and  may  it  please 
Thy  heart  and  bring  thee  health  and  happy  ease 
When  parched  and  thirsty  is  thy  own  life's  well, 
And  memories  once  fresh  by  care  are  dried. 


114 


ROSE   LEAVES 
I. 

GIVE  me  the  rose  leaves  of  the  rose  you  plucked, 
Though  wilted,   faded,  and  by  strong  hands 
bruised; 

The  good  of  all  the  hours  of  this  day 

By  us  in  carelessness  has  been  dry-sucked, 

As  is  a  clover  when  by  bee  abused, 

That  gets  all  that  it  can,  then  wings  away; 

And  yet — and  yet  perhaps  in  wintry  time, 
He  dreams  of  clovers  and  of  sunny  clime. 

So  in  some  shrine-like  book  that  I  love  best — 
Some  book  of  verse  where  songs  of  youth  are 
sung — 

Will  I  make  safe  the  rose  leaves  of  your  rose, 

Kissing  the  rhyme  there  may  they  find  full  rest ; 

And  when  the  snow  about  my  window  blows 
A  sad  heart  o'er  the  rose  leaves  will  be  hung. 


II. 

The  golden  meshes  of  thy  loose-bound  hair, 
Thy  full,  voluptuous  lips  that  seem  to  burn, 

Thine  eyes  so  clear,  thy  neck  so  round  and  fair; 

May  not  thy  beauty  fade  though  thou  shouldst 
learn 

That  many  a  thorn  about  each  rosebud  grows; 
That  those  you  deemed  true  friends  prove  too 
unkind; 

That  with  each  joy  there  come  a  thousand  woes; 
To  all  such  worrying  troubles  be  thou  blind. 

High  pedestaled  upon  a  marble  shrine, 

Edged   'round   with   carbuncles   and  sapphires 
bright, 

Have  I  beheld  the  Virgin's  halo  shine, 
Until  the  chancel  seemed  suffused  with  light. 

So  may  thy  soul  its  pure,  good  radiance  shed, 

And  by  thy  beauty  may  the  world  be  led. 


116 


III. 

Why  is  it  that  with  thee  I  am  at  ease, 
And  would  my  very  nakedness  lay  bare, 
And  with  thee  my  most  chambered  secrets  share, 

Nor  feel  compelled  to  try  each  hour  to  please 

Thee  with  new  fancies  ?     As  the  evening  breeze 
Comes  freighted  with  delicious  coolness  rare 
After  the  parching  heat  and  sunny  glare, 

Thou  com'st  to  couch  thy  head  upon  my  knees. 

And  always  with  a  sympathetic  look, 

And    generous    thoughts    in    pearly    phrases 

thrown, 
And  sometimes  with  a  flower,  or  a  book 

In   which   some   great   truth  has   been   newly 

lighted; 
Or  happily  I  make  for  thee  a  throne 

Where  I  may  kneel  before  thee  and  be  knighted. 


117 


IV. 

There  is  an  emptiness  within  my  heart 
Such  as  a  poet  feels  in  vernal  May, 
When  snowy  apple-blossoms,  tipped  with  pink, 
From  clustering  bowers  to  the  dank  ground  sink, 
And  he  is  left  alone  to  think  and  think, 

And  weeps  to  see  the  fairy  flowers  depart, 
Wishing  that  all  the  year  were  one  long  May, 
That  all  its  glories  could  but  last  alway. 

No  other  face  can  take  the  place  of  thine, 
Nor  can  another  voice  with  sparkling  joy 

Make  glad  this  heart  of  mine  and  give  me  health. 
To  try  to  drown  this  ill  with  bubbling  wine, 

Or  other  pleasures  that  the  senses  cloy, 

Would  be  as  vain  as  seeking  fabled  wealth. 


118 


V. 

Wilt  thou  forget  me  as  the  hours  pass  by, 

Wilt  thou,  wilt  thou  forget  me,  tell  me,  say, 
Wilt  thou  forget  me  as  the  months  pass  by, 

And  make  me  but  thine  heart's  lone  castaway? 
Our  natures  are  so  frail  I  almost  cry 

To  think  that  friendships  pass  so  soon  away, 
As  crimson  roses  mingle  with  the  clay, 

And  none  lament  them  even  with  a  sigh. 

'Tis  better  thou  forget  me  than  regret 
That  we  by  fate  are  driven  far  apart : 

But  still  I  wish  thou  wouldst  not,  couldst  not,  let 
Me  from  the  mirror  of  thy  heart  depart; 

For  I  would  live  there  quiet,  calm  and  free, 
To  love  and  suffer  and  to  die  with  thee. 

Rutland,  Vermont. 


119 


LEAL  LOVE 

How  amorous  is  my  heart  to-night,  O  Friend, 

My  fancy  rises  to  its  airiest  height; 
So  come  and  bring  your  sweetest  words  to  mend 

My  sighs,  and  let  us  quaff  off  swift  delight 
Deep  glow  my  eyes  of  blue  as  two  sapphires, 

When  strong  emotion  into  passion  turns, 
When  fine  imagination  feeds  desires, 

And  when,  as  now,  my  love  for  thy  love  yearns. 

My  heart  has  weary  grown  of  beauty  cold, 

And  seeks  both  life  and  warmth  in  something 
real ; 

I  would  thy  healthy  form  to  mine  now  fold, 
Knowing  thou  art  and  ever  will  be  leal. 

Since  I  must  love,  yet  love,  I  would  be  sure, 
Be  thou  near  by  as  long  as  life  endure. 


1 20 


MUTTERING   DISCONTENT 

GIVE  me  a  man  whose  heart  is  large,  world-wide, 

Who  taught  of  God  would  hold  humanity, 
Not  In  a  system  that  is  cut  and  dried 

To  suit  some  worn-out,  old  Theology: 
Who  can  behold  the  men  that  make  the  world 

As  beings  varied,  gifted  with  good  powers, 
At  whom  no  thunderbolts  by  God  are  hurled, 

But  kindly  nourished  as  are  varied  flowers. 

E'en  now  a  mutt'ring  discontent  is  heard, 
The  helplessness  of  man  repenting  of, 

That  we  are  kept  in  prison  by  man's  word 

Instead    of   God's,   whose   boundless   name   is 
Love. 

May  all  this  grow  until  at  last  is  seen 

An  tarth  newborn  beneath  a  heaven  serene. 


121 


TRIOLETS 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

THIS  is  the  place  I  hung  my  hat, 

This  is  the  place  I  went  to  school. 
Many  a  year  has  passed  since  that; 

This  is  the  place  I  hung  my  hat, 
There  was  the  clock,  and  there  a  mat. 

I  learnt  to  read  and  write  and  rule. 
This  is  the  place  I  hung  my  hat, 

This  is  the  place  I  went  to  school. 


POOR  LITTLE  THING 

POOR  little  thing, 

You  need  my  care ! 
Naught  can  I  bring, 
Poor  little  thing, 
But  I  can  cling 

To  you  and  share 
Your  woe.    Poor  thing, 

You  need  my  care. 


125 


NOT  NOW,  BUT  SOON 

NOT  now,  but  soon — 

I  heard  her  say — 
Perhaps  this  moon, 
Not  now,  but  soon, 
If  all's  in  tune. 

Fly,  fly  away. 
Not  now,  but  soon — 

I  heard  her  say. 


MY  DANDY  DUDE 

HE'S  straight  and  slim, 
My  dandy  dude, 

So  very  trim; 

He's  straight  and  slim 

To  suit  my  whim, 
My  own  heart's  food ! 

He's  straight  and  «lim, 
My  dandy  dude. 


126 


THE  MAN  WHO  KNOWS 

To  THE  man  who  knows, 
Let  us  drink  now,  boys, 

From  his  head  to  his  toes, 

To  the  man  who  knows ! 

Though  he  may  have  woes, 
He  has  many  more  joys. 

To  the  man  who  knows 
Let  us  drink  now,  boys! 


THAT  MAIDEN  SO  FAIR 

OH,  who  would  deceive  her, 
That  maiden,  so  fair? 
I'm  sure  none  would  grieve  her, 
Oh,  who  would  deceive  her? 
Yet  one  could  relieve  her, 

Of  kisses  and  care, 
Though  he'd  not  deceive  her, 

That  maiden,  so  fair. 


127 


LILACS  BLUE 

Now's  the  time  for  lilacs  blue, 

Pink,  and  white,  that's  certain. 
Now's  the  time  for  me  and  you, 

Now's  the  time  for  lilacs  blue. 
Now  when  life  is  fresh  and  new, 

Cupid,  raise  the  curtain. 
Now's  the  time  for  lilacs  blue, 

Pink  and  white,  that's  certain. 


A   CIGARETTE 

A  cigarette 

For  lips  half-parted, 
With  fresh  health  wet: 

A  cigarette 
Is  fine,  you  bet. 

Ha,  ha,  we've  started ! 
A  cigarette 

For  lips  half-parted. 


128 


A  SMILE,   A  FROWN 

SAY,  what's  a  smile,  say,  what's  a  frown? 

Each  melts  into  the  other, 
When  coy  love  comes  half-glancing  down; 
Say,  what's  a  smile,  say,  what's  a  frown  ? 
I  hail  each  from  her  eyes  of  brown; 

Of  both  I  am  the  lover. 
Say,  what's  a  smile,  say,  what's  a  frown? 
Each  melts  into  the  other! 


129 


RELIGIOUS    POEMS 


THE  CHRISTIAN 

I  AM  no  king  of  lands,  nor  of  seas  lord, 
Nor  is  my  coming  heralded  by  horn, 
For  in  no  prince's  tower  was  I  born. 
No  courtier  hastes  to  catch  my  passing  word, 
Or  see  if  rightly  he  my  utterance  heard. 
No  equipage  doth  carry  me  in  state 
To  keep  me  from  the  rabble  separate, 
That  I  be  in  my  passage  undeterred. 

But  I  am  ruler  of  a  greater  land: 

I  rule  my  body  and  my  mind  and  heart; 

I  curb  strong  passions  and  I  quell  desire, 

Keeping  my  body  under  and  my  ire. 

When  doubts  and  fears  like  ghosts  about  me  stand 

I  calmly  thus  address  them,  "Peace!     Depart!" 


133 


SPARE  THOU  THY  PEOPLE 

O  THOU,  enthroned  amid  the  jasper  stones, 
Where  Cherubs  veil  their  faces  in  Thy  sight, 
And  Seraphs  stand  like  wardens  blazing  bright, 
Hear  Thou  our  supplications  and  our  moans — 
Humanity's  heartfelt  and  heartsick  groans — 
Which  come  before  Thee  in  our  helpless  plight. 
Spare  Thou  Thy  people,  Lord,  and  grant  us  light 
Or  we  shall  lie  amidst  the  dust  and  stones. 

Here  at  Thy  earthly  altars  stand  by  day 
Thy  priests  with  hands  uplifted  in  Thy  name, 
Pleading  the  merits  of  Thy  sacrifice, 
Together  with  their  praise  and  holy  lives; 
O  Saviour,  look  not  from  Thy  flock  away, 
But  on  our  altars  let  Thy  soul-blood  flame. 


134 


A  PRAYER 

LET  me  forget  myself,  O  Christ,  in  Thee, 

And  seek  no  longer  after  earthly  fame ; 
Let  me  forget  myself,  O  Christ,  in  Thee, 

For  Thou  alone  forever  art  the  same. 
Since  friendships  fade,  their  joys  last  but  an  hour, 

And  hearts  grow  cold  that  ne'er  you  would  mis 
trust. 
Sad-eyed  I  weep  o'er  many  a  bright-hued  flower, 

That  it  must  meet  and  mingle  with  the  dust. 

There  is  no  calm  nor  peace  except  with  Thee, 
And  nought  is  gained  by  all  our  eager  hurry 

After  delusive  pleasures,  which  we  find 

But  empty  forms  that  breed  a  world  of  worry. 

So  give  us  peace,  and  calm  each  troubled  mind, 
Lest  we  forget  our  immortality. 


135 


NOW  AND  THEN 

Now,  pleasures  one  by  one  are  snatched  away, 
And  we  are  left  more  stripped  and  bare  of  joy; 

Yet  if  we  listen  we  can  hear  Christ  say, 
"  Fear  only  him  who  can  the  soul  destroy." 

So  let  us  live  in  patience  and  in  hope, 
For  Jesus  cares  for  all  the  souls  of  men: 

Though  now  in  doubts  and  anguish  we  may  grope, 
Before  His  throne  we  all  shall  sing  "  Amen." 

Wallmgford,  Conn. 


THINGS  OF  SENSE  AND  TIME 

IN  vain  the  things  of  sense  we  fear, 
For  things  of  sense  and  time  are  dear; 
So,  God,  raise  things  of  sense  to  Thee, 
And  godlike  make  humanity. 

And  every  thing  of  beauty  rare, 
That  glitters  with  its  lustre  fair; 
Let  us  but  dare  to  love  it  when 
Thou  art  portrayed  in  it  to  men. 


136 


THY  SHIELD 

THERE  is  One  whose  eye  is  beholding, 
When  thy  face  is  covered  with  tears, 

And  whose  lips  are  never  scolding, 
When  thy  life  is  shaken  with  fears. 

And  His  life  has  a  goodly  prestige, 
And  His  face  a  kindly  smile ; 

In  His  heart  not  the  slightest  vestige 
Of  anything  that  is  vile. 

Oh,  I  am  thy  shield  and  thy  lover, 
Oh,  I  am  thy  great  reward, 

Thy  husband,  thy  friend,  thy  brother, 
I  am  thy  Christ,  thy  Lord! 


137 


THE  CHURCH 

O  CHURCH;  oft  bruised  yet  ever  strong, 

The  Body  of  Our  Head, 
Lift  up  Thy  voice  and  let  Thy  song 

Tell  how  by  Thee  are  fed 
The  nations,  growing  great  with  power, 
Which  springs  afresh  from  Thee  each  hour. 

O  Holy  Church,  not  born  of  men, 

But  founded  by  Our  Head, 
Fear  not;  for  one  shall  disperse  ten; 

Continue  yet  where  Thou  hast  led. 
Authority  is  not  a  Czar, 
But  guides  men  like  a  gladd'ning  star. 

Poquetanuck,  Conn. 

WHEN  THE  LOVES  OF  EARTH  LIE 
DEAD 

WHEN  our  hearts  are  almost  breaking, 
And  the  tears  come  thick  and  fast; 

When  we  wish  that  Death  would  own  us 
And  that  each  breath  were  the  last, 

Then  in  mercy,  Saviour,  shield  us, 
And  Thy  warmth  about  us  spread, 

For  Thou  only  canst  bring  comfort 
When  the  loves  of  earth  lie  dead. 

138 


SACRAMENTAL  FORGIVENESS 

GOD,  all-merciful,  forgive, 

For  our  hearts  are  stained  with  sin: 
Long  has  been  the  battle  fierce 

From  without  us  and  within. 

In  Thy  Holy  Sacraments 

Let  us  feel  our  pardon  sealed; 

In  Thy  blessed  Presence,  Lord, 

Our  deep  heart-wounds  will  be  healed. 

Conn. 


LIFE'S  HARMONY 

LIFE'S  harmony  I've  found, 
Christ,  at  Thy  blessed  shrine ; 

And  holiness  profound, 

Has  filled  this  heart  of  mine. 

No  longer  shall  I  doubt 

And  count  this  life  as  nought, 

I  cannot  live  without 

Thee,  Christ,  in  deed  or  thought. 


139 


THE  MOTHER-SPIRIT 

MARY  seeks  her  twelve-year-old 
In  the  street  and  by  the  way, 

And  she  found  him,  we  are  told, 
Not  until  the  third  sad  day. 

What's  a  mother's  love,  ask  ye? 
Look,  I  answer,  at  Mary. 

Mary  weeps  beside  the  cross 
As  she  never  wept  before. 

Grieved  her  heart  is  by  her  loss, 
For  her  Son  can  speak  no  more. 

What's  a  mother's  love,  ask  ye? 
Look,  I  answer,  at  Mary. 


A  H^YMN  OF  THE  HEART 

O  GOD,  dissolve  my  doubts  in  love 
And  cleanse  my  heart  from  fear; 

So  shall  my  soul  both  know  and  prove 
That  Thou  art  ever  near. 

I'll  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth, 
E'en  now  as  beyond  death, 

I'll  know  that  my  Creator  giveth 
The  joys  that  this  life  hath. 

140 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MOV  11 1985 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


PS         verder  - 

35U3      The  snow  bride 


PS 


A  A     000257495    2 


